James E Keating

It's Noon and clouds narrow the world slate and asphalt and pebbles of crows scattered above my head. Today I have my hands to do work my head does not want. It's already tomorrow. I will draw and snuff out cigarettes in next week. Yesterday still sits on a bar-stool next to a revelation. There were three and now only realize he was only one. A writer and poet he said. Next week I'll know for sure.